


Mountain's End

by Tien



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5036977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tien/pseuds/Tien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the riot, and the dust had settled, Murkoff abandoned Mount Massive. But they left something behind.<br/>In their eyes Subject 2536, Waylon Park, was a failure and nothing more.<br/>Months passed and Waylon's life had become a waiting game. He was waiting for Jeremy, he was waiting for the scientists to come back for him, he was waiting to feel something again.<br/>While investigating Mount Massive, Miles Upshur stumbles into Waylon's territory and slowly builds up a relationship with the mountain's protector.<br/>Much has changed between them, and much will continue to change as they fall into friendship and something deeper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Places, New Faces

**Author's Note:**

> Before we start I'd like to mention that this is a gift fic for Joel, tumblr user Oyoshima, who also runs the Wayrider blog, http://wayrider.tumblr.com/, from which this fic is based.  
> I would never dream of taking credit for the creation of Wayrider's character. I'm simply writing a story set in the same universe. As such, my fic is not considered blog canon, but it uses as many ideas and events from canon as I can.  
> Since it's an AU there are a few things that differ from normal Outlast canon, such as Miles knowing who sent him the email originally.

“Kid, don’t you have something else to be doing?” 

“Aw come on Trager, aren’t you happy to see my smiling face?” Waylon replied as casually as he could muster. He was positioned on top of a stack of wooden crates in one of the doctor’s operating rooms. 

Trager wiped a trail of blood off of his face from an unruly artery spray and said, “I would much rather cut off my own fingers than entertain you, you mangy mutt.” 

“I do not have mange!” He said a bit offended. “Hey,” he said a bit brighter, “did you get that book I sent you?” 

With a roll of an eye he answered, “Yes you smart ass. “Sex After Fifty,” fucking hilarious.” He hacked into the ribcage of the body on the table. “You know I’m only forty eight right?” 

Waylon smirked. “And you don’t look a day past sixty.” 

“Where’d you find that anyway? Blaire’s office?” 

“Ha, ha, funny.” 

A heavy silence filled the air, broken only by the sound of tearing flesh. “You know he’s not coming back right?” 

Waylon flopped over on his back and stared at the ceiling. “Don’t say that, he’ll come back. Jer has to come back.”

The scalpel bit into the body a bit harder than necessary. “Don’t fool yourself. That bastard doesn’t care about anyone other than himself.” 

“That’s not true!” He couldn’t help the snarl that punctuated his sentence. “It’s not true.”

“It’th not true! It’th not true! He loveth me becathe I’m hith faithful dog!” Trager laughed and pinned a piece of the digestive tract away from the organ he was working on. “Listen to yourself kid, you got it bad for someone who doesn’t give a single shit about you or anyone else.” 

Waylon decided to let the imitation of speech slide, but he was still growling. “And how the fuck do you know what Jeremy is like?”

Trager turned around meeting the Walrider’s gaze eye to eye. “There was a time I would use the term ‘buddy’ on that man. Not anymore.” He went back to cutting apart the body on the table. “Some people change and others are incapable of it. Jeremey’s heart is so rotten it makes yours seem like the pure driven snow.” 

Waylon let his head hang over the crates and he watched the upside down form of the doctor for a while before saying, “So you were close to him, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“He’s good in bed, isn’t he?”

“Jesus fucking Christ Waylon. I never slept with the guy.” 

He laughed. “Really? You seem like the type who’d fuck anything. Hell you fucked me.”

“Boy do I regret that. Bestiality really isn’t my thing.” 

“I’m not a dog.” 

“You drool like one.”

“I can’t fucking help that.” He rolled back over so the world was right side up again. “I can’t help a lot things…”

Trager paused in his dissection. “Kid I didn’t mean-”

Waylon interrupted him, “Where’d your nipples go?”

“I cut them off,” Trager replied without missing a beat. He was ninety percent sure they disappeared with the top layer of skin after his second round in the Engine but it was always fun to leave something to the imagination. 

“Why?”

“Because there’s an old story about the Walrider that says it drinks the blood from the nipples of its victims. Sorry, but I’m not letting you get frisky with me.”

“With those dried prunes? Ew.” 

“Why are you here anyways?” Trager said going back to his work. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a very important operation?”

Waylon raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry Doc, looks like that one didn’t make it.” He sat up and let his legs swing against the crates. “I’m just bored. You and Eddie are the only ones who aren’t scared of me and Eddies making brides right now…” 

“That guy is going to use up all of his fresh meat. I hope he doesn’t think I’m going loan him anymore.” Trager carefully pinned more skin back revealing the lungs of his patient. “If you’re so bored go on a patrol or something. Isn’t that what guard dogs do? Go boarder patrolling or something?”

He sighed, “Yeah I guess. I could go do that. It’s not like anyone’s bothered coming here after the riot. Only Murkoff trucks and the occasional lost hiker.” Waylon slipped off the crates and went for the door. 

“See ya, kid.” 

“Bye Trager. I’ll be back if nothing cool shows up.” 

Trager waved him off with a limp hand. “Please don’t.” 

The asylum had become a rather quiet place since the staff left. Not that it was ever the most bustling of places, but it had life. Now it was just dark, cold and empty. Waylon padded through the upper floors of the Male Ward towards the Administration Block. He figured he’d start his loop at the front gates then walk the perimeter fence around the complex. Then he’d head over to the guard towers. Sometimes Murkoff still stationed men in then towers furthest from the main buildings. They were awfully fun toys. 

He had claimed the Administration Block and the Laboratory as his home. Occasionally people would pass through, usually on their way to other blocks. If they were lucky he let them pass, however if he found himself bored or hungry they became perfect prey items.So it wasn’t all that surprising that most people cut through the courtyard to get to other buildings and bypassed the Administration Block. 

Waylon made it to the Administration Block without incident. He opened the front doors and took a deep breath of mountain air. It was crisp and cool and he loved it. His eyes stared longingly at the road the curved down the mountain. A few times he had tested just how far he could go, but the pain always became too much about three fourths of the way down. He growled softly under his breath. It hurt to think about freedom.

The fencing surrounding Mount Massive was brick in most areas but switched to double chain-link with barbed wire tops.Of course that was only the outer fence. To reach this point you have to cross several types of security fencing ranging from electric to more brick. When the place operated as an asylum it was very difficult to pass from one outside area to the next. However, after the riot many inmates had figured out how to bypass them. There were spots where holes were dug underneath or metal clipped away. On some walls the patients had even removed the bricks themselves and created passageways to use. All this meant to Waylon was that there were more ways for them to get out and ways for intruders to get in.

Before the riot the scientists used to praise his hunting abilities. They would often talk about how well he was doing and that he’d be a great asset to them later on. He wondered where they went sometimes. He wondered why no one had come back for him. Surely he was important? Wasn’t he?

But it had been months since then and no word from any of the familiar scientists. Just guards with guns and trucks who wanted nothing to do with him. So he did what came naturally to him, he protected the asylum from outsiders and hunted down anyone who caused problems. 

He was only a quarter mile from the main gate when he heard something in the woods. Nimbly he scaled the tall wall and watched the tree line. A person came stumbling out swearing and brushing leaves and twigs from his hair. Waylon wanted to laugh, but held it in; clearly this person wasn’t the stealthiest of intruders. The man looked up and down the wall but didn’t see Waylon lurking in the shadows. Waylon followed him along the wall, watching and waiting to see what his next move would be. If he was just a lost hiker he would hold off on attacking. Missing hikers meant police, and police meant trouble for the rest of Mount Massive. But if he was an intruder, then he wouldn’t hold back.

The man was an adult, he looked younger than Jeremey was but from this distance he couldn’t tell. He had a scruffy look to him, like he wasn’t the most well-groomed of individuals. Waylon was thinking he was a hiker more and more. Over one shoulder hung a backpack and a jacket was tied around his waist. Waylon took in a deep breath, between the scent of the forest and mountain he also picked out something oddly familiar about the man. It was almost like he recognized the smell. But that was impossible; this was the first time he had laid eyes on the man. His interest grew. 

The hiker was mumbling to himself, Waylon couldn’t catch everything that he said but he was quite used to hearing people talk to themselves. Plenty of the patients would talk to open air; it must be a very common thing for humans to do. They were almost to the gate when Waylon saw something that changed his whole opinion of the man. From his bag he pulled out something metal. A flash of dying sunlight revealed it to be a camera. 

No. Cameras were bad. Cameras meant this wasn’t a hiker. It meant he was here to invade, to cause trouble, to endanger them all. Waylon bared his teeth and growled low in his throat. The man froze and looked around but couldn’t spot Waylon. From his perch he crawled slowly closer to the human before he launched himself off the wall and onto his back. 

The claws on his left hand bit into the rough canvas of the bag while the others on his right buried themselves into the ground. He heard the intruder shout and try to roll over but Waylon had him pinned. “What are you doing on Murkoff property?” He said, but the words were lost to the roar of static and underlying snarls.

“Shit! Fuck, I’m just-“ Waylon pressed down harder on his back. His feet pinned down the legs of the man. Even restrained the intruder still managed to twist his head around enough to glance at Waylon’s face. His expression shifted from pure terror to extreme puzzlement. The more he looked at the ferocious beast the more he started to recognize him. “W-Waylon? Holy shit is that you?” 

Almost instantly Waylon forgot all his training. He released his grip on the man and scooted back. “How… How do you know my name? Are you from Murkoff? Did Jeremey send you?” Nobody outside the facility knew his name. Hell even most of the inmates didn’t know his name. But this man did. 

“Holy shit,” the man repeated. “It is you. What…” he sat up and looked closer at Waylon. He took in everything from the huge sharp teeth to the glowing yellow orange eyes. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Waylon growled again which made the man flinch. “Who are you? What are you doing here and how do you know my name?” His instincts were starting to come back as the initial shock wore off.

“My name is Miles, Miles Upshur. I-I’m here because you emailed me to come. Sorry it took so long, shit if I had known this was-“

“Shut up!” Waylon said suddenly. He regained his aggressive posture, ready to rip his throat out at any moment. “I don’t know anyone named Miles. You lie.”

“Bullshit I’m a liar!” Miles spat back. His reputation apparently outweighed his fear. “You sent me a goddamn email back in September and of course you fucking know me. We were college buddies.” Waylon growled again. “Well,” Miles added, “maybe not buddies but we knew each other at least.”

“I don’t…” He thought hard about what this man had said. His memory was a clouded mess and the further he went back the less it made sense. “I…” The growling came back, this time out of frustration and not aggression. 

Miles dug around in his backpack and pulled out a file. “Look, right here. You sent this.”

Waylon took it and looked it over, the words danced around the page and he couldn’t focus on anything. He had to assume what he was looking at was an email. The only thing he could read clearly was his name. “I don’t remember this. I don’t remember you. I don’t remember asking for help.” 

“Well,” Miles prompted, “what do you remember?” He took back the file. 

“I know that my name is Waylon Jay Park. I know that my patient number is 2536 and that I’m the host for Project Walrider. And I know that you are trespassing on my territory. I also know that I’ve been instructed to kill anyone who steps onto these grounds.”

“Let’s not get hasty there Waylon. No one needs to die today.” He was quiet for a moment. “That’s really it though? That’s all you have?” He was quiet again. “Shit…what did they do to you?”

“I’m not stupid. I know that I wasn’t born a few months ago, even if that’s when my closest memories are. I know I must have had a life before this, but I also know that who I was before is not who I am now. You might have known me before, I can’t remember so I can’t confirm, but you do not know me now.”

“That’s…fair.” Miles said. “So, what now?”

“I’m going to eat you.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no fucking way.” 

“Joking,” He said standing up. “I still have humor. You’re going to leave this place and never come back, and I’m going to forget you ever showed up. Come back and I will kill you.”

Miles stood up and grabbed his bag noting the deep claw marks running through it. “So I’m just supposed to forget I ever saw a monster thing in the woods and I’m supposed to just ignore the report you sent me? I’m supposed to turn my back on the people suffering here? Get in my Jeep and drive away knowing that something huge is going down and pretend everything is fine?”

“Yep.”

He looked from the claw marks on his bag to the large teeth protruding from Waylon’s jaw. “Right. Ok. I can do that. I’m gone.” 

Waylon watched as the man collected his camera and headed for the front gate. He followed him to make sure he went down the mountain. Then he paced the fence line all night and into the morning for any trace of him returning. Something didn’t sit well with him about the encounter. For the first time he met someone who knew who he was before he was turned into the beast he was now. He had a link to who he was before and he chased him away. A part of him mourned the loss of the chance to find out more. But the other half, that part was grateful. It was painful enough knowing he couldn’t leave; he didn’t need the added knowledge of friends or family out there waiting for him to return. He decided that the less he knew the better.

Eventually he fell into a restless sleep curled up on old bedsheets and blankets in the abandoned cafeteria of the Administration Block. His dreams were peaceful ones for once, they allowed him to get a restful sleep. He woke up to the sound of something crashing to the floor a floor below him. Waylon rolled his eyes and sat up to stretch. Someone down there was about to become breakfast as a penalty for waking him up. 

He slipped out into the hall and listened to the silence around him. There was another clatter and someone slammed a door hard behind them. Waylon heard a voice shout, “Fuck!” followed by more things tumbling to the ground and more creative swearing. However Waylon was pretty sure he recognized the voice. 

Once downstairs he was able to easily follow the scent of the intruder. It was the only thing different and easy to pin down. He opened the door and found Miles trying to scramble up into a vent. There were boxes sprawled across the floor as the man’s lower body kicked at the air in an attempt to find any leverage to push himself up into the vent. “What did I tell you about coming back?”

“Shit,” Miles swore. He felt a strong hand grab his leg and pull. 

Waylon yanked him from the vent and stood over him. He didn’t seem scared. He should be scared. “I think there’s something wrong with you.”

“Yeah me too.” 

“Why did you come back?”

Miles shrugged. “Curiosity killed the cat.” He got to his feet and brushed off his clothes. “Couldn’t stay away.” He opened the door and walked into the center of the lobby. He turned in a circle and took everything in. “Quite the place you have here. Love what you did with the decorations.” 

“You don’t seem afraid.”

“Nah,” he took out his camera and filmed while he spun. “If you were going to make good on your promise you would have done so already.” He stopped spinning and pointed the camera directly at Waylon. “Whoa, have you seen what you look like under night vision? Freaky shit there.” 

“You are very confident in yourself I see.” 

He shrugged again, “Confidence, stupidity, the line is very thin. What happened here?”

“You think I’d tell you?” He leapt up onto the secretary’s desk and watched Miles walk around the room.

“Doesn’t hurt to ask.” Miles stopped the recording and went over to Waylon. “Check it out; you look cool under this setting.” 

Waylon watched the short video, when the screen focused on him he did have to admit, Miles was right. He reached for the camera, which Miles let him have. He played back the part where he was shown before tossing the camera across the room. It shattered and fell to the floor.

“Hey, that was a nice camera. What the hell?” 

“Oops.” He slid off the table and said, “You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.” 

“Why?” Miles asked and pulled out another, smaller, camera. 

“How many of those things do you have?” Miles just raised an eyebrow. “Forget I asked.”

Miles sat down on one of the chairs and watched Waylon walk around. “So what are you? Yesterday you said something about being the host? Host of what?”

“Project Walrider,” he replied without looking at him. “I can’t tell you anymore because I honestly don’t know anymore.” 

“Are you human?”

A low rumbling growl started in his chest. “I don’t know. Probably not.” Miles had only been in the room for a few minutes and he was already growing tired of the questions. Humans were always like that, too many questions.

“Interesting.” Miles took out a notebook and started writing some stuff down.

“What are you doing?” 

“Writing.” He looked up. “I’m a reporter, I’m taking notes.” 

“I don’t like reporters.” The rumble got louder. 

“Why?”

“They cause trouble for us here. I kill and them when they show up.” 

Miles paused mid-sentence. “Wait, us? There’s more of you here?” He shivered at the thought of more monster men.

“No, not of me. But there are the other patients left here by Murkoff. This is our home. I protect it.” 

“Could you…could you show me around?” He saw Waylon narrow his eyes and his lip lift a bit in a snarl. “No cameras. I promise.”

“I guess…” He saw Miles stand up quickly. “Don’t make me regret this.” 

Waylon led the way and Miles followed. Miles couldn’t keep his eyes off of the other. He was dressed in what used to be a prison jumper, but it was soiled with blood and dirt and stains of unknown origin. The sleeves were rolled up revealing blackened skin that reached to his elbows. The same taint gathered around his chest and spread down from his eyes like tears of tar. At first he thought it might have been dirt or grease, but now he wasn’t so sure. He wanted to ask what it meant but Miles figured that Waylon himself probably wouldn’t even know. 

They reached a staircase that had roof access. Waylon took the stairs three at a time leaving Miles breathless when they arrived at the top. Once there he opened a door and stepped outside. “I don’t like heights,” Waylon said, “but I figured this would be easiest way to explain things.” Miles stood next to him and looked across the asylum. “Think of each building like a territory. Each territory is ruled by a Variant.” 

“Variant?” 

“Uhm, patient? They were experimented on. I just heard the staff call them that. Anyways, each building is ruled by one.” He pointed to the long building to the right of the one they were standing on. “That’s the Male Ward, Trager rules there, then there’s the Vocational Block where Eddie lives.” He pointed to the building to the left of their position. “That’s the Female Ward, I’m not sure if anyone actually claimed there. The building is rotting so I don’t think anyone lives there. Maybe in the basement… Next to that is the Prison Blocks. I’m pretty sure that’s Walkers’ area. The old medical blocks are where Frank used to roam but I think someone killed him recently.” Next he pointed to a church and said, “That’s where Father Martin and his followers live. He’s an older Variant; the Twins usually help keep order around there.” 

There were way too many names said way too quickly for Miles to keep up with but he had one question. “Where do you live?”

“Here. I tend to stick to the Administration Block and Labs. They’re the places I remember most vigorously. I like to stay where I know; it’s more comforting that way. However, technically I can go anywhere I want. The borders don’t mean anything to me.”

“Huh. So no one messes with you?”

Waylon pulled back his lips to expose the large sharp teeth that lined his mouth. “No. Nobody messes with the Walrider.” He turned and headed back down the stairs. From there they walked through some dormitory themed rooms and passed the church.

“What kind of religion do they practice here?”

“They call it the Gospel of the Sand. It’s a religion based around well, me. Not just me though, the Walrider itself. It gets pretty weird when I think about it.” Waylon kept moving. “I’m not something to be worshipped, that’s for sure.” 

Miles had to put a hand over his nose to try to block out the smell from the next couple of hallways. He knew exactly what that smell was, rotting flesh. It was present in the background all over the asylum but particularly strong in this section. The stench faded slightly when they walked into an open area. Waylon tapped a button for an elevator that noisily descended and opened. “This place still has power?”

“Murkoff left us here, but they didn’t completely leave us to rot.” Miles found the word choice used was amusing, considering they just passed several rooms of decaying flesh. Waylon stepped into the elevator and motioned for Miles to follow. “I’m going to introduce you to a friend.”

“Friend?”

“Yeah, my buddy Dr. Trager.”

Miles stepped inside the elevator as the doors closed. He recognized the name from the list of ruling Variants. “Doctor? So there are still staff around?”

“No, Trager isn’t a doctor doctor. He’s just does doctoring.” 

“Does doctoring?” He was thoroughly confused. 

“Yeah, you know, like he performs doctor on people but he’s not a doctor.”

In response, Miles nodded like it was the best description he had ever heard. It was better to agree than try to get a more detailed explanation out of Waylon. The elevator clanged to a stop and the rusted doors opened allowing them to step out into another open area. From the look of it, it used to be a lobby or reception area. There was a stench that Miles was quick to note. It had been all over this section of the building but it seemed to be the strongest here. A curious mix of metal, vomit and rot made up the bulk of the smell. He saw Waylon wrinkle his nose and press forward. 

“Trager leaves his patients lying around after he works on them. That’s why it smells.” Waylon was disgusted every time he ventured up into the Male Ward, but Trager was his friend so he braved the stench anyways. He glanced back to see Miles clearly holding back vomit. “I tell him it’s disgusting and that the fresh meat would be appreciated in other areas but…” He shrugged. “Some people don’t like listening to suggestions.” 

Miles followed close behind Waylon, he had no idea what to expect. For all he knew this could be an elaborate trap to kill him. This Trager fellow wasn’t sounding like a good character to meet. But he didn’t want to turn back now, not when he was so close to learning something else about the Murkoff establishment. “I thought you were the highest power here? Shouldn’t they do what you tell them?”

“Nah,” Waylon said and jumped on a stack of beds. He walked on top of them while talking. “I’m the highest on the food chain, that’s for sure, but I’m not the most influential thing here.” He jumped back down when the beds ended and said, “Trager treats me like a kid.” 

“Of course I do, Buddy, you’re hardly an adult in my eyes.” 

Miles almost jumped at the sound of another voice entering their conversation. Ahead of them stood a man, he was leaning against the doorframe of a room. He was wearing loose fitting pants and a bloody apron. Nothing covered his upper half and Miles briefly debated on the existence of skin on his body. “Well I’m not a child,” Waylon said again.

“Yeah, you’re the company dog, we all know that.” Trager ignored the growling that came from the host and focused on the human standing behind him. “What do you have there? Fresh meat for me? You shouldn’t have.” The kid seemed jumpy and paranoid, definitely not a regular. 

“No. He’s not fresh meat for me either, or anybody.” 

“Hmm… Ok Buddy, now you got me interested. Care to explain? If he’s not fresh meat than what is he?”

Waylon seemed unsure if he should answer. “He’s a visitor. A guest.” He saw the dangerous gleam in Trager’s eyes. It was the kind of look a predator sets on prey. He knew it well because he too adopted it and give it a home. However, surprisingly he didn’t like that look when it was trained on Miles. “He knew me before I was…this.” 

Trager’s expression shifted. “Is that so?” He couldn’t hide the curiosity in his voice. It’s not every day someone waltzes into the asylum and claims to have known the Walrider. 

“Yeah, we went to…whatever it was you said.” 

“College,” Miles said, finding his voice. “We went to college together, way back. I’ve known Park for a few years. He sent me an email about this place last September.”

“Oh! So you’re the one he got caught trying to speak to.”

“What?”

“You’re the guy! Wow, took you long enough to show up.”

Miles was confused. “How could you have known about that? I never forwarded that message to anyone, nor have I been hacked, to the best of my knowledge. Waylon sent it from an onion router, that should have private…” 

Trager chuckled, it sound dry and gritty. “Come on into my ‘office’ boys. I’ll fill your friend in on a few things.” 

Trager lead the way through a few rooms into one that was pleasantly clean. In the center was a small desk and a chair, along the wall rested a dirty couch and bookshelf that contained a few books. It almost looked like an office, if you were half blind. Miles also spotted a mattress on the floor behind the desk, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead he said, “So what’s your story?”

“I’m much more interested in yours, and why our local mutt hasn’t eaten you like he does the rest of the intruders.” 

“I’m a reporter, an independent investigative journalist. I came looking for answers when Waylon emailed me.”

“Well, welcome to hell. I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay.” 

“Why do you keep calling him a dog? Is it the teeth? I don’t understand…” 

Trager laughed again. “That’s his nickname around here. It started a while back, when he was in that little cage begging for scraps. He didn’t know how to talk back then, just whimper and growl like an animal. You should have seen the way he drooled around Mr. Bl-“

“Enough.” Waylon said, suddenly stern. 

“Oh lighten up Waylon. You acted like a dog, and honestly you haven’t changed much. Don’t get too full of yourself just because someone bothered to teach you to speak.” 

“So you know Waylon? How?”

“Well,” Trager said with a hint of pride. “Once upon a time I was a Murkoff employee.”

Miles looked him up and down again. There was clearly insanity reflected in his eyes, but there was something else deep within as well. “I was about to call bullshit but…” 

“The name’s Richard Trager, former head of research and development for Murkoff Psychiatric Systems Project Walrider.”

Trager dug an old ID card from his pocket and handed it over to Miles. He took the card and gave it a quick look over before saying, “Fancy title, how’d you end up here?” 

“Ask the dog.” Trager jabbed a finger towards Waylon.

Miles looked at Waylon. “What does that mean?”

“It means he blames me for what happened.” Waylon crossed his arms and glared.

“I don’t blame you, I blame Billy.”

“Billy?” Once again Miles was swiftly approaching the point of being overwhelmed by too many unfamiliar names with little to no explanation.

“The other Walrider at the time. Our boy Waylon here wasn’t the first one on the campus, he was the last though.”

Miles was still fairly confused. “So how did this other monster do this to you?”

“Walriders are interesting creatures. They can get inside your mind, twist your dreams and suck information right out of your brain. It’s dangerous. Billy went digging around in mine and found something he shouldn’t have.” Trager shrugged. “The higher ups thought it was a breach in information security and I wound up on the other side of the glass. Simple as that.” 

Suddenly Miles didn’t feel all that comfortable standing next to Waylon. He took a few steps away. He was already backtracking the way they came in his mind. If he could read his mind then he’d never make it out without those teeth sinking deep into his neck. Miles wasn’t even sure if he could outrun something like a Walrider.

Waylon noticed how Miles was looking at him, eyes with fear etched on them. “I, I can’t do the mind stuff,” he admitted. “You don’t have to worry. I never had that ability and I never will.”

“It’s true,” Trager offered up. “Our little pup here failed his mind reading tests.” 

Miles relaxed slightly, but he was still on edge. Suddenly asking to take a tour of this place didn’t sound like such a good idea. “So,” he said, “you worked for Murkoff and that’s how you got ahold of that email?”

“Oh of course, Murkoff takes information security very seriously,” Trager said darkly. “There was a brief staff meeting to discuss it after Waylon had been detained. Of course, he doesn’t remember any of this. The Engine wiped his memory. The poor thing could hardly function those first few days. You should have seen him all curled up and-“ Trager stopped when Waylon started growling low in his throat. “Anyways, I read the email; we all wondered when you’d show up. You never did though, pity, we had this elaborate tour planned, lies we were going to force feed you, and a cozy kennel next to Waylon’s if you didn’t regurgitate what we fed you back onto your site.” 

“I see…can you tell me more about this Project Walrider? You were in R and D, you must have known quite a bit.”

Trager glanced from Waylon to Miles then back to Waylon before saying, “I do have the information you’re looking for, however, it would be best if you came back without him. And you should know that I require payment for my services.”

Miles nodded dumbly. He couldn’t imagine what form of payment someone like Trager could want. What did people in this place want? Food? Money? Miles had no idea. 

Waylon turned around and pulled on Miles’ arm. He said, “See ya’ Trager. I gotta go show Miles the rest of the buildings.” 

“Fair enough,” Trager said and walked up to Miles. He extended his hand. “It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Upshur.”

“I don’t know if I can quite say the same,” Miles replied but shook his hand anyways. He noticed the uncomfortable amount of time that Tragers touch lingered on his fingers. Like he was savoring the feeling of them. It creeped Miles out and he was grateful when the exchange was over and he was following Waylon back down the hall. 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t go meeting with him. Trager seemed far too interested in you for your own good.”

Miles shrugged. “Good thing you’re not me.” They went through a few hallways and down two flights of stairs before the scenery started to shift. Miles could tell they were leaving one building and entering another. A worn down sign with faded letters said they were near the Vocational Block. Miles was fairly interested in what kind of activities the inmates here would have been doing. Did they do metal work, textiles, or maybe something else, like woodworking?

There was a chain-link door that prevented them entering the main grounds of the block. Waylon pushed it open and proceeded with Miles trailing behind him. The gymnasium was to their left but Waylon kept walking. Even with all the bodies removed the place reeked of unimaginable death. He wasn’t the only monster that went on a killing spree the night of the riot. 

“This is where Eddie lives,” Waylon said. “He has a room upstairs that he uses as his home, but this whole building is his territory. You must never come here without me.”

Miles grinned; it seemed Waylon was already expecting a return visit from him. “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to go into any of these places without you.” 

“Eddie might consider himself my friend, but I’m not so sure where I stand. He’s seems ok, for the most part, but there’s something that puts even myself at unease.” He opened another door blocking off a staircase and started to ascend it. Miles’ footsteps echoed behind his. They were making their way down another hall when Waylon stopped suddenly and listened. He could hear the faint sound of a table saw from further down the hall. He took in a deep breath of air and smelled three things, fresh blood, urine, and fear. “We need to go.”

“What? But we just got here.”

His ears picked up the slight sound of breathing, controlled, and the faintest sound of footsteps. “We need to go, now!” He growled and Miles backpedaled. 

Waylon took off down the hall at a decent pace leaving Miles scrambling to catch up. “Wait, I thought you said you were at the top of the food chain here?”

“I am, you’re not.” Waylon grabbed his arm and hauled him down the stairs whenever Miles stumbled he yanked him harshly up to his feet. Instead of going back through the Male Ward Waylon chose to go outside and cut through the courtyard. He took the quickest route back to the Administration Block. 

Miles’ chest was heaving by the time they slowed down. “Are you going to tell me what just happened?” Miles huffed between gasps of air. 

“Eddie Gluskin is often called “The Groom” by many of us here at Mount Massive. Today was a bride making day. But worse than that…he knew we were there.”

“What do you mean? Making brides? I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t understand. All you need to know is that we were being hunted. The saw was a distraction to get us to go in that direction. He…he must have known I had fresh meat on me…” 

“Fresh meat? You’ve said that a few times, what is fresh meat exactly?”

Waylon started walking back inside the Administration Block, he beckoned Miles to follow. He felt safer in his own territory. “Fresh meat is what we call the new humans that Murkoff supplies us with. Once a month trucks come to the asylum driven by soldiers. They hand out food and supplies to us before leaving. Of the things they hand out is fresh meat. The leading Variants divide up the new humans and decide what to do with them. Most eat them; others take them into their territory and care for them.” 

“So Trager and this Eddie guy thought I was fresh meat?” Waylon nodded. “What…what do you do with yours?”

“I don’t take any,” he said. “I prefer to hunt, anything else is boring.” 

Miles wasn’t sure what to make of that. Part of him already suspected that Waylon’s teeth weren’t just for show and when he said he’d eat him the other day it wasn’t entirely a joke. He also wanted to question why Murkoff would continue to supply the asylum with food; he had assumed they would just want everyone in this place to rot. There was definitely something else going on here, and Miles was going to figure it out. 

“You should go,” Waylon said suddenly. “I don’t feel like taking you to any of the other buildings.”

“Maybe next time?”

“There shouldn’t be a next time. How can you even think of coming back?”

Miles shrugged. “Maybe I’m bored, maybe I’m stupid, or maybe…” he gave Waylon a long look. Even in those darkened eyes he could see his former friend reflected back. “Maybe I want to get to know you again.”

Waylon took a few steps back, a small whimper forming in his throat. “Don’t say things like that. I’m a monster, humans don’t befriend monsters.” 

“Perhaps this one does? Or would like to.” Miles turned his back on Waylon and walked over to an old elevator. “Hey, where does this go?”

“The Labs.” 

“Can we go down there?” Miles asked while he pushed the call button.

“No!” Waylon growled. He lunged for Miles roughly shoving him away from the elevator. He slammed the metal grates shut and spun around baring his teeth in an aggressive display of protection. “No one is allowed down there. Especially not you.” 

“Whoa, whoa, ok. Settle down.” Miles regained his feet and cautiously approached Waylon. He still had those large teeth locked in a threat display and was growling low in his throat. “I won’t go down there. Come on, let’s head outside. You can walk me to my Jeep.” 

Waylon seemed to snap out of it. He reclaimed his composure and nodded. “Y-Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“It’s ok, there’s clearly things ingrained in you that tell you to protect stuff. I get it.” This time around Miles had parked his Jeep just around the bend in the road. Out of sight from anyone looking out an asylum window, but close enough where the walk wasn’t bad. Waylon didn’t say anything the whole way there. “You ok? You’re quiet.”

“I don’t get it,” Waylon said. “You were almost taken, people talked about you like you were food, and I almost attacked you, yet you talk about coming back. You’re even asking me if I’m ok. I should be asking you that!”

“I’m fine,” Miles said. “I’ve been in worse situations, if you can believe that.” He reached under his Jeep and pulled out a key from a compartment near the wheel. “I’ll stop by tomorrow ok?”

“Don’t.”

“Same time?”

“Please don’t.”

“Where should I meet you?”

Waylon groaned. “Administration Block, second floor cafeteria is where my den is.” 

“Great, see you then.” He stepped inside and started the engine. 

In a matter of moments Miles Upshur was gone and Waylon was once again left alone. The human was far too confusing, far too stupid, and far too endearing. He’d only been around him for a day and already he felt compelled to protect him. Maybe he was just protecting some buried memory of him, or maybe he was clinging to a chance to make a friend. Truthfully, he was just lonely. “I wish Jer would come back… I want him, not Miles…” 

Once back inside the Administration Block Waylon picked up a foreign but familiar scent. “You shouldn’t be here Eddie.” 

“And you shouldn’t be lurking in my territory either, especially not with such beautiful meat in tow.” Eddie was resting against the table in the center of the room. His arms were crossed, he wasn’t too happy. “What’s the point of establishing territories if you just ignore them and pass through as you please?”

“Trager doesn’t mind,” Waylon mumbled. 

“Trager isn’t everyone, Darling.” He stepped away from the table and walked across the room. “I know most of the asylum is afraid of you, but I’m not.” He put a hand on Waylon’s chin and tilted the other man’s face up so he could look into his eyes. “I don’t appreciate uninvited guests. Who was your little prize?” 

Waylon growled low while saying, “None of your business. I was showing him around, that’s all.” 

“A new addition to the family?” Eddie questioned. “You know, he’d make a remarkable wife, his build is exquisite.” 

“No,” Waylon said and broke free of Eddie’s hold. “And don’t touch me, you know I don’t like it when you act like that.” Waylon didn’t step away from Eddie though, stepping away would mean submission, and he wasn’t going to submit to anyone. Instead he took a step forward and closed the gap. “You should learn where you stand.”

“Bold words coming from our favorite dog.” Eddie wasn’t threatened by Waylon’s tone or stance. Casually he broke away and resumed leaning against the center table. “So if he’s not for me, and he’s not for you, then what were you doing in my realm?”

“Showing him around, he’s a guest. He’s not to be messed with.”

“You can stop me?”

Waylon snapped. He was already in a bad mood and Eddie wasn’t making things any easier. In one swift, fluid motion he leapt on top of Eddie, pinning his upper half to the table, forcing his back to bend at an awkward angle. One hand was firmly gripping his throat while the other sunk deep into the wood of the table. “You act like you can make me yours, but you forget what I am.” Waylon snarled. “I am the Walrider, and I can kill you.” Eddie struggled underneath him but couldn’t shake Waylon off. Waylon moved his hand from Eddie’s throat to his face as he pushed it up so he had full access to his vulnerable throat. He ran his teeth down the tender skin and threatened to bite when Eddie struggled again. “I could kill you right now,” he breathed into his prey’s bobbing Adam’s apple. “But I won’t, because I can show some restraint.” He backed off of Eddie, but before he released him he slammed his head down on the table. “Don’t come into my territory and make threats.” 

Eddie staggered to his feet and rubbed the back of his head. “Of course, how foolish of me. Are our plans for tomorrow evening still good?”

Waylon shook his head. “Move it to the day after, I suddenly became busy tomorrow.”

“Right, well, I will see you then.”

“Bye, Eddie.” 

Waylon watched him walk through the door and disappear across the courtyard. He hated when he had to show dominance but he hated being walked over even more. Snarling he stalked back upstairs to his room where he collapsed on a mound of dirty blankets. He didn’t want to be feared, he wanted to be respected, he wanted to have relationships based on trust. But trust wasn’t something that existed on this mountain. He learned that the hard way. 


	2. Peopletarian

The Jeep crawled up the mountain road and stopped just short of the main gates of Mount Massive Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Miles’ feet crunched gravel as he walked up to the main doors of the Administration Block. Unlike his prior visits he wasn’t sneaking in. He placed his hands firmly on the door and pushed, they were unlocked and swung open with minimal effort. The main lobby still had the reek of death deep clinging to it. Before he ignored it, there were far too many interesting things to catch his attention. But now that he was alone, the stench seemed to seep into his nose. 

Miles found a directory on the wall just inside the entrance. There were arrows that pointed to all sorts of rooms, a lounge, security office, library, cafeteria and church were just a few. From yesterday Miles remembered that Waylon mentioned a “den” or something in this block’s cafeteria. The sign pointed upstairs, so that’s where he went. Once up there he took a long look at the lobby from above. He was amazed at the blood that seemed to be splattered in the most awkward of places. He pulled out his camera and zoomed in a few particularly interesting spots of gore. “How the fuck did that organ get up there?” He said quietly to himself. Miles stowed the camera back safely in his bag before proceeding any further. The last thing he wanted was another expensive camera to end up smashed against a wall.

The upper floor was surprisingly cleaner than some of the other parts of the complex. He wondered if cleanliness rose with the floors. Maybe whatever happened here didn’t leak into higher floors. The balcony ran along the lobby in a huge square. In every corner a hallway extended out into the building. Miles assumed that those hallways lead to the various other rooms on the map as well as the executive offices. He wanted desperately to snoop, but he didn’t want to alert anyone to his presence. Without Waylon by his side he felt defenseless. Before, he had no idea that he could be hunted down, so he recklessly made noise. This time he managed to walk in undetected. He was ready to bet that Waylon would have heard him by now, but the other was nowhere to be found. 

He came across two large doors with a plaque reading “cafeteria” next to them. Miles shrugged and gently pushed one open. It was a large room with floor to ceiling windows that showed off the beautiful mountain view. It also let in a vast amount of natural light. The sudden brightness was a welcome contrast to the rest of the building’s murky darkness. Most of the room was filled with tables, some overturned, others piled against the wall and a few were still standing upright. There was a tipped over soda machine against the wall opposite to the windows. A small splash of blood led up a vent. Miles briefly wondered if the person the stain belonged to made it out, or if they died up in the vent. He took a few cautious steps into the room. So far nothing had caught his eye as strange. He hoped he heard right and this was the correct space. Miles went over to the window and placed a hand on the cool glass. The asylum sat pretty high up in the mountains, and from this vantage point he had a great view of the towering trees and wilderness that spread out over the mountain. For a moment he imagined what it must have been like to work here. Cozy office space, handsome wages, and lunch breaks that came with an intoxicating view. All of that was possible because of the exploitation of the weak. Miles wanted to laugh at that, it was a business plan so American he was shocked that it came from a foreign company. 

For the first time that day Miles finally heard something that would indicate he wasn’t alone. There was the soft sound of snoring that came from his right. He followed the sound with his eyes and discovered a pile of blankets heaped over a collection of dirty mattresses. A table on its side was propped up beside it, blocking it from the view of the doorway. It would explain how he didn’t see it upon his entry. Curious Miles stepped closer so he could get a better look. 

There was one pale leg sticking out from under the pile. Before Miles could question who it belonged to the owner became clear. The blankets shifted and revealed a blackened arm and sleeping face of Waylon. His eyes were scrunched tight, like he was having a bad dream, or in pain. Miles took a few more steps. Waylon didn’t seem to notice. He continued to sleep soundly, emitting a few whines in-between snoring. 

Miles couldn’t help noticing the way his jaw didn’t seem to want to shut right. He felt bad for the guy, those teeth of his might look intimidating, but they must be a royal pain in the ass. Though he didn’t intend it, he realized that watching someone sleep might appear to be a bit creepy. But he didn’t know how exactly to wake someone like Waylon. He was pretty sure that reaching over and shaking him would result in his arm being bitten off. 

Instead of attempting something like that Miles opted to sit on top of one of the other tables and wait for him to wake up. It seemed like a safer option. He hopped up on a table and pulled out his phone. During his other visits he hadn’t had time to check his cell. There was no service, he couldn’t tell if that was on purpose or if it was just poor reception in the mountains. He wouldn’t put it past Murkoff to cut off cell and radio signals that weren’t theirs. But he didn’t want to get paranoid, not yet.

The blanket piles moved again which drew Miles’ attention away from his phone. There was a yawn and groan as the body beneath the blankets stretched out. One black and yellow eye opened and locked onto Miles. “What are you doing here?” He mumbled before closing his eye again.

“You’re the one who said I could come back, same time, you even told me where to go.”

“Ughhhhhhhh,” Waylon raised an arm and waved it limply. “Go away.”

“Rough night?” Miles asked.

Waylon rolled over again and covered his face with one of the dirty blankets. “I couldn’t get to sleep.”

“Bad dreams?” Miles guessed.

There was a pause before a small reply, “Yeah.”

“What do you have to be scared of?”

“A lot of things.” 

Miles didn’t like the dark tone that Waylon’s voice took. So instead of pressing further he asked, “Do you really want me to leave?”

“Mmmhmmm,” he replied from under the mound.

“You sure?”

“Mmmmmmno.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Waylon was very clearly exhausted. “No, don’t leave. You bothered to come back, better not chase away the only visitor I’ve had in days.” He blinked a few times and waited for his eyes to focus. Miles was seated on a table next to him. “How long you been there?” 

He shrugged and said, “Few minutes, why?” 

“It’s weird…that I didn’t wake up. Usually I can hear intruders, or at least smell them when they’re nearby.” He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. Already he could tell Miles was different, and he didn’t know if it was the good kind of different. 

Miles watched him stand up and stretch then head towards one of the doors. When it swung open Miles could see a stainless steel table and a fridge. It must have been the kitchen back when this was a functioning business. “Hey, you want anything to eat?” He heard Waylon call from behind the door.

“Uh, sure?” He wasn’t sure if it was impolite to turn down a meal from a creature like Waylon.

“Leg or arm?”

“What?” 

Waylon poked his head out through the doorway, “Leg meat or arm meat?”

“Uh…Arm?” He assumed that Waylon was talking about chicken or turkey or something and didn’t know the word for wing, or was being weird and called it an arm. Miles was always a fan of chicken wings. 

He was very, very wrong. Waylon came out of the backroom and tossed Miles a severed arm. “Here you go,” he said as it landed in Miles lap. He frowned when Miles yelped and jumped off the table. “What’s wrong?”

“That…that’s a human arm. A human fucking arm.”

“Yeah?” Waylon pulled out his breakfast, the leg that went with the arm. He watched Miles scoot away from the limb and eye Waylon with a suspicious glance. “Oh,” Waylon said suddenly. “I get it. You’re one of those plant eating people. Trager told me about them, like…vegie…somethings. I’m sorry, you didn’t have to accept my offer if you don’t eat meat…” He took the arm away and noticed how Miles flinched when he got too close. “I’m not…I’m not going to hurt you because you don’t wanna eat breakfast.” 

Miles forced his shoulder to relax and his lips to twitch into a smile. “It’s not that. I’m not a vegetarian, I just uh…wasn’t expecting that as…you know, breakfast.” 

“I always eat meat for breakfast,” Waylon paused for a second. “And lunch, and dinner, and as a snack. I must be a meatatarian or something.” 

Carefully Miles got up and took the severed arm from Waylon. He gripped it by one of its fingers and tried not hold it any tighter than necessary. “I’m going to go put this back, for later, you know?” Waylon just shrugged and went back to eating. Miles slipped into the kitchen and looked for a place to put the arm. He spotted the fridge and assumed by the chilled touch of the skin that the arm must have been cold prior to this. Upon opening the fridge he discovered the rest of the body. He shouldn’t have been surprised; he should have known it would be in there. Sitting neatly inside the fridge was another leg, arm, and torso of a man. At the very least there wasn’t a head staring back at him with blank eyes.

Miles tossed the arm into the fridge and slammed the door shut. Immediately he ran to the sink and had to hold back on retching. Once he thought he had a strong stomach, and it was being put to the test. The hand that hadn’t held the arm was clamped over his mouth while the other worked the facet and he prayed it was working. Cold water came spilling out and Miles hastily washed his hands before splashing his face several times. 

He turned his back to the rushing water and pressed a hand to his eyes. The urge to gag was still there, but less. He should have expected this. Waylon had told him the day before that he hunted humans. This shouldn’t have been a surprise. It should have been obvious; given his teeth and behavior he should have seen this coming. But it’s not every day you open a common kitchen appliance and find a corpse. It’s not every day you have to come to terms with the fact that your old college buddy is now a cannibal. 

“Hey! You ok in there! Did you get lost?”

“I’m fine!” Miles choked out. “Just getting some water!” He took a few more deep breaths, he had to ignore the strange smells from the rest of the kitchen and focus on what he was going to do next. He had already made the decision to come back and see Waylon again. It was a choice he didn’t want to go back on, he had decided to help his friend. He felt he owed him that much, after taking so long to come to his aid when it mattered. Miles was too late to save Waylon, but maybe he wasn’t too late to save what he’d become. 

After another round of calming breaths he stepped back into the cafeteria and took a seat across from Waylon at the table. “Sorry about that, I was just, uh, admiring the kitchen. It’s pretty nice. Does everything work?” 

Waylon shrugged. “Trager told me not to use anything in there, said I’d burn the whole asylum down.” He noticed the way Miles would stare at him while he was eating. It was the kind of stare that was attempting to be secretive but failed. It was the kind the scientists would give him, the kind Jer often used when he was doing something that wasn’t “right”. “Haven’t you ever seen someone eat before?”

“I uh, yeah…of course,” Miles said.

“Well, stop staring, you’re acting weird.” 

“Says the one eating a leg.” 

Waylon asked, “You said you eat meat, but you don’t want what I gave you so…are you one of those animal eating people?” Miles nodded. “I don’t know why you’d do that. I’ve tried hunting animals, it’s tough. Humans are way easier. They don’t have sharp teeth or protective fur, they’re really slow, and easy to bring down. Minimal effort for maximum meat. Everyone should eat people.”

“Uh,” Miles didn’t know how to explain this. “People, don’t um…really eat other people.”

“Really? Because almost every human I know has eaten, or eats people. Is it really that strange?”

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be. I mean, do you eat other…uh, what did you call yourself? A Wayrider or something?”

“Walrider, and no. I’m the only and last one of my kind around.” He didn’t like thinking about that. “I don’t think I’d taste that good anyways, too much corruption.” 

“Corruption?”

“The black stuff on my skin,” Waylon explained. He pulled down the neck of the jumper to reveal not only a nasty looking Y scar, but more of the blackness. It seemed concentrated around the scar and his chest. “I’m not sure what it is…but the scientists said it was where the nanites are. Sometimes it feels like I’m rotting. It can’t taste good.” 

“Does it hurt?”

“No.” Waylon gnawed on the bone while he observed Miles. “Why’d you come back?”

“I said I would,” Miles said. “I don’t go back on my word.” 

“Clearly you do, you came back when you said you’d never return.” 

“You got me,” Miles stood and walked to a window. “I guess sometimes I lie. Not often. I’m just… really curious about this place. I want to know more, understand more, even if I can’t publish any of it.”

“You’re stupid.” Waylon said and tossed the bone over his shoulder. It landed on the floor behind with a dull thud. 

“Yup.” Miles stood up and stretched. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

“Nothing you’d like; you’re not a Variant so you wouldn’t see the value in half the stuff we do around here.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?”

“Because you’re normal. You don’t live here. You’re from the outside world. Trager said people from the outside world don’t understand and can’t understand what it’s like here.”

Miles frowned and said, “That hardly seems fair, does it? To judge me before you’ve gotten to know me.”

“I don’t need to know you, you’re a human and humans are all the same.”

“Are we now?”

“Yes,” Waylon said without hesitation. 

“Well…if you won’t show me what you do for fun, how about your favorite places around here?”

“No way, too personal.”

“Uh, what do you want to do then? Honestly I didn’t have much of a plan here, besides driving up.” 

“I uh…” He paused as well. “I don’t know, actually. I never thought you’d come back.” When Waylon inhaled he caught Miles’ scent again. It was so familiar it almost hurt to think about. He walked around Miles and took in every detail; from his stormy grey eyes to the worn hiking boots he wore. “You promise you weren’t lying before, about knowing me?”

“I promise. We weren’t the best of friends, but I knew you. “

“Because…because you smell really, really familiar.” Waylon inhaled again. “I don’t know how to describe it, but your scent makes me feel at ease and nervous all at once.” 

Miles found that a bit strange to say. “You can smell me? Like, I have a smell that’s different from everyone else?”

“Of course,” Waylon said. “Wait,” he frowned. “You mean you can’t tell people apart by scents?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

Neither Trager nor Eddie had commented on this topic when Waylon would say something to them, so he figured everyone could smell the differences in people and that he was only slightly better at it than others. But now he was beginning to think it was just another trait that he shouldn’t have, something else to mark him as the asylum dog. 

“Well what do I smell like?”

“I don’t know, you can’t just ask that…you smell like…you? Warm? Like summer, and something I’ve smelled before but don’t know what it is.” 

“Interesting,” Miles said. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Can I ask you a few things?” 

“Sure,” Miles sat down near the large windows and looked out over the woods.

“Do you know if anyone from Murkoff is going to come back?”

“I don’t know that. But,” he added after seeing Waylon’s expression fall. “I can check for you when I go back home. Why are you interested?” 

Waylon made a frustrated whining sound. Like an exasperated growl mixed a low whine. “I don’t know. I’m lonely I guess, bored. When the scientists were here at least I had a purpose.” 

Miles looked at him thoughtfully and said, “Why don’t you come back with me?”

“What? No, that’s impossible.” 

“Oh come on, we were buddies before, I’m sure we could be buddies now. I’d be more than happy to get you back on your feet. It’s been a while since I’ve had a roommate. Throw some shades over your eyes, gloves over hands and some foundation for the tear marks and you could pass as human.”

“N-No, not that, it’s just…I can’t leave here Miles.” 

“Sure you can, the shitty people at Murkoff don’t own you. Pack your stuff, we can leave tonight. I’ll even cook all your meals; I’ll show you how tasty beef is. It’ll be great you’ll-“

“Stop it!” Waylon said suddenly. When Miles flinched Waylon apologized instantly. “It’s not that I don’t want to go, it’s that I can’t go. I can’t leave this mountain.” 

“What? Why?” 

“I don’t know. There’s probably a reason, but I was never told. When I try to leave I…I hurt. All over. Like my body is on fire. The pain goes away when I climb back up the mountain, so I’ve just never left.” 

“Oh…so you’re trapped here…”

“Yeah.” Waylon sat down next to him. “Can you uh, check and see if someone survived the riot?” 

“I can try. Who is it?”

“Jeremy Blaire.”

The name sounded familiar. “He was in charge of this facility right?” Waylon nodded. “I remembered coming across his name during my preliminary research. I never read anything about a riot, but that’s probably on purpose. There’s no way a company like Murkoff would publish anything about a riot publicly. Especially one resulting in this much death. The lawsuits would be never-ending.” 

“I don’t know what half that means, but if you could look, I would be really grateful.” 

“No problem. Who is this Blaire fellow? A friend of yours?”

“No, more like master if anything.” Miles didn’t like the sound of that. “When I woke up for the first time he was there…watching me. We weren’t friends, I don’t get to have friends, but sometimes he was nice to me. Way nicer than the other humans. Sometimes he was mean too, but all humans are mean.” Waylon pulled his legs up to his chest. “I haven’t heard from him since the riot. He hasn’t come back and I’m worried he died.” 

“Someone with that much power probably slipped out, don’t worry. They probably evacuated the heads of staff first.” 

“But what if…what if went downstairs looking for me?”

“Would he have done that? From what you’ve told me, you can handle yourself.” 

“I don’t know.” He made that whining sound again and pressed his head into his legs. “Why’d you come back?”

“You already asked me that.”

“I know.” 

“Part of me is curious and part of me wants to help in any way I can.” 

Waylon mumbled, “You shouldn’t come back again, it’s not safe.”

“I don’t know if I can stay away.”

Waylon stood up suddenly and wiped at his eyes. “Come on, I’ll show you around the courtyard today. Maybe Father Martin will be out with his followers. You could talk to them.” 

\---

Miles hadn’t come back today, Waylon told him not to. He said he had things to do and he couldn’t have him trailing along behind him. Most of that was true. Today was a hunting day and he couldn’t keep track of that human while hunting down others. Though Miles did say he’d come back tomorrow, much to Waylon’s displeasure. The man seemed set on becoming a part of his life, even if it was only temporary. 

He didn’t know what to do. He’d never actually had someone who wanted to be around him before. Blaire would tolerate him, that’s what most of the asylum seemed to do, tolerate him. Trager pitied him, that was obvious. The older man seemed to think that what happened to him was partly his fault. Like he had leftover guilt from working on such a horrible project. Waylon didn’t feel the same way, but he never brought it up. For the most part Trager was nice to him, and he liked that. In an odd way the doctor was someone Waylon could halfway trust. 

Eddie on the other hand…

“Darling must you eat like an animal?” Eddie was watching him from across a makeshift table. “I know we make dog jokes but honestly we all know you’re not really a dog. Have some self-respect.”

Waylon rolled eyes and growled. “I respect myself plenty.” 

“Then why do you insist on shoveling your food down your throat? Nobody is going to take it from you.” He handed Waylon a towel which was immediately soiled with red tomato sauce. 

“Why do you insist on inviting me over only to ridicule me?” Though, he already knew the answer. Eddie always wanted two things from him, every time they met. The first was his help with something, usually rounding up fresh meat, the second was sex. Waylon was more than happy to help with the first but the second was a firm no. 

“I enjoy your company.” Waylon snorted and Eddie protested, “I do, it’s true.” 

“You enjoy the idea of my company, the idea of me rolling over and submitting to you.” 

Eddie frowned. “We’ve been through this; I will not force myself onto you.”

“Yeah until you get mad. Then I have to practically claw you off.” Waylon wasn’t stupid, he knew that the other man was used to getting what he wanted and when he couldn’t have something he got angry. That scared most of the inhabitants of Mount Massive, but it didn’t scare Waylon. He knew he was more of a monster than Eddie could ever hope to be, and he didn’t need a room full of hanging corpses to prove it.

“Thankfully I’m not mad all the time.” 

Waylon sighed. That was true. “You’re not bad all the time, I guess…” He hated to admit it, but sometimes Eddie could actually be enjoyable to be around, sometimes even nice. “But when you get into one of your moods you’re impossible.”

“I cannot deny that. So I won’t. I am thankful for your continued company. I’m surprised you showed up today, especially after our little incident in the other day.” 

“I don’t…you know…It’s hard, finding people who aren’t…” Waylon trailed off and stared at his food. Eddie had made a bland pasta, the best he could do with the limited supplies offered by the last Drop. “I gotta keep what I have, you know?” 

“Of course. I understand perfectly.” Eddie tried to smile but watching Waylon eat was starting to make his stomach turn. “Could you please chew with your mouth closed?”

“No, I’m on a see food diet.”

“Darling that’s pasta with human chunks, not sea food.” 

“No, see food, look.” He stuck his tongue out and watched as Eddie nearly gagged. 

“I’m having a word with Trager, these jokes are tasteless.” 

“Like your dinners,” Waylon said between laughing fits.

“I’ll have you know I used to be an amazing cook. I take pride in all my work, sewing, cooking-“

“Murder?” 

“Hush.” Eddie frowned. “You could benefit from being a bit more like me.” He could see Waylon’s puzzled look. “I don’t mean you should take up sewing, though I’d gladly teach you, I meant that you should show some pride in what you do as well.”

“What I do? What exactly do I do?” Waylon asked. He was genuinely confused. “All I’m good for is killing.”

“Perhaps. If you believe that, then be proud of it.”

“Hunt with pride?”

“Sure.”

Waylon shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, I guess.” 

\---

Hunting Eddie’s territory was easy. It was large, open and had only two off limits targets. The first was Denis, who lived in the upper storage area, and the second was Paul who lived near the courtyard entrance on the west side of the building. Eddie kept them around because they were good at funneling in unexpected humans into his territory. They were allowed to live as long as they kept the supply of fresh meat coming. 

Today Waylon was promised one fresh kill for himself and the rest of the targets would be crippled and left in one of Eddie’s holding rooms for future use. There were a lot of people who had taken up residence in Eddie’s territory which surprised Waylon at first, until he considered what their other options were. The medical bay where Frank was had little for open spaces to bed down and create a home, the prison blocks were much the same way, too cold, too wet, and too much bile. The Female Ward was falling apart and the Administration Block was his home. That left Trager’s Male Ward and Eddie’s Vocational Block. The Male Ward had people living there, but less. Most figured it was nicer to die by Eddie’s hands than Trager’s. Eddie killed you quickly while Trager tended to draw out his kills. One time Waylon watched him keep a person alive for fifteen days with an open abdominal cavity to just see if he could. 

Waylon enjoyed hunting Eddie’s territory when he was given the chance. Most of his meat came from here. The rooms were often easy to infiltrate, and the ones that weren’t were accessible through a vent. Eddie only hunted once or twice a month, usually in-between Drops when his own supplies were running low. Because of this many of the residents weren’t as wary or as cautious. They were easy to pick off. 

Tonight Eddie wanted his fresh meat before Waylon was allowed to hunt for himself. Which meant he had to round up at least five people and get them into a special holding room before he could catch his own meal. The Vocational Block was simply shaped and laid out, with the only defining features being the gymnasium at one end and the chapel in the center. A few of the rooms contained unique machines but the shapes were much the same, regardless of their contents. Waylon could hear Eddie in an adjacent room. He was herding would sounded like two people towards him. 

Quickly he climbed up into a vent and waited. He held his breath steady and waited for the two men to rush into the room below. They did, as predicted. Waylon stalked them from above and listened at their panicked talking. 

“I think we lost him!”

“Keep your voice down idiot! Or he’ll find us again.”

“Don’t you think this was a bit…easy? Eddie doesn’t just give up.”

Waylon smiled and got ready to attack.

“You thinking that he has a trap set up?”

“Maybe, watch where you put your feet.” 

His grin grew wider. While they were worried about the ground they hadn’t thought to look up. Waylon let them get a few more feet into the room before he dropped from the vent and landed squarely on their backs. One hand grasped the back of a neck and pinned down while the other dug into the back of the other man. “Eddie I got em!” 

“What the fuck? What the fuck is this?” They struggled beneath him but Waylon was far stronger than they were and held them easily to the floor. “Eddie lives and works alone, what is this bullshit!” 

“Oh Darling, what a lovely catch.” Eddie said as he strolled into view. He walked around the two and lifted the head of one with a cleaver. “Yes, these will do. The face on this one is just so…soft, and the eyes on the other one aren’t full of fire, I like my women spicy but not too hot.” He gave Waylon a look with one eyebrow raised. 

Waylon growled but Eddie ignored him and started to tie the man’s hands together. “I do live alone, but sometimes it helps to have a hunting dog.” 

“You better be thankful I agree to this.” 

“Oh I am.” He tied the knot tight. “And it’s not like I don’t pay you Darling.” 

One of the men finally got a good look at Waylon. Even in the darkness, illuminated by the moon he could tell who it was. “Walrider, please, help us! You’re supposed to be our protector, our god!” 

“Nah,” he replied. 

“But you mu-“ his plea was interrupted by Eddie who shoved a gag into the man’s mouth. 

Eddie hauled the two men to their feet and said, “Do you want either of them?” 

“I thought you said I wasn’t to take one until the job was done.” 

He shrugged in reply. “It’s still early and we have three in the holding room, I’m not feeling too threatened.” 

Waylon nodded and walked around the two men, sniffing them carefully and eyeing them up and down. “No, I don’t want either of them.” One of the men let out a held breath. 

“Are your standards higher than mine? I didn’t think that was possible.” 

He shook his head. “They aren’t fresh. The Engine haunts them. I don’t like eating meat tainted by the Engine.” 

Eddie laughed quietly and shoved the two men forward. “All right then, you heard the dog, if he’s not going to take you, I will. Pity he has delicate taste buds.” 

“Yeah, pity.” Waylon grinned wide. “It’s the only thing keeping me from eating you.” Then he disappeared back up into the vents to stalk another prey item, leaving Eddie standing dumbfounded and staring at where he just was. 

The humans were getting harder to hunt the longer they hunted. Word spreads fast around the asylum and it wasn’t long before most of the block knew they were out. This was the time that Eddie was especially thankful that he had Waylon around. Eddie had to open each room up and check it before leaving. Waylon simply had to follow the fear scent that clung to the humans. It didn’t take any effort to hear their uneven breathing and pounding hearts. And if they barricaded the door they were as good as dead. With Waylon’s strength he was able to bash down most doors, and if he didn’t want to exert the effort he’d find another way in or make Eddie break the door down. They were his future brides after all. 

He slipped out of a vent and landed silently on bare feet. From there he crouched down and cautiously made his way down the hall, hiding in shadows. The black skin that creeped up his arms helped disguise his form but he knew his dully glowing yellow orange eyes would give him away to an extra observant or paranoid Variant. From the other side of a wall he could hear three people talking. 

“We aren’t safe in here!” 

“We aren’t safe anywhere.” 

“The door is blocked; if we all just shut up they won’t find us.” 

“Are you kidding? He has the dog with him tonight. We’re all as good as dead!”

“The dog? What’s a mangy mutt going to do?” 

Waylon growled low in his throat. “I do not have mange, why does everyone say that?” 

“No not an actual dog you idiot. The Walrider!” 

“The Walrider? Here? What’s he doing here?”

“He helps out The Groom with his hunting. The thing’s a monster. He can hear better than any of us and smell fear!”

“It can also break down doors, so shut up or it will hear you!”

Waylon located the door and didn’t even bother testing it. Instead he ran a claw across the door and marked it with an X. He walked a few rooms over and found Eddie waiting for him. “Well?”

“There’s three locked in a room back there. I marked it with an X, have at it.”

“You’re not going to help me?” 

Waylon shrugged. “I already caught several for you, I’m going hunting now.”

“Right, well…thanks for your help Darling, do you want me to assist you in your hunt? Or do you want to meet up later tonight? We could-“

“No, Eddie, I’m fine.” As Eddie was leaving Waylon added, “Oh, I said locked, but I meant barricaded. I think they threw a few tables in front of the door. They don’t think it can stop me, but they highly underestimate you.” 

After Eddie had left Waylon considered where he was going to start his hunt. Like he said before, he avoided the ones touched by the Engine. Their cells were ruined and tasted foul, though there was another reason. Being the Walrider gave him an intimate relationship with the Morphogenic Engine. The Engine was a vehicle through which Waylon was able to speak with the other host, he couldn’t go into the dreams or thoughts of people, he wasn’t that good, but with the Engine’s help Billy could talk to him. To Waylon the Engine was more than a sequence of code, it was a living thing that spoke to him. It also spoke to every single Variant, though to most they weren’t aware of it. Waylon could tell who had been touched by the Engine and he didn’t find it right to eat them. He would when he had no choice, but it felt like he was eating one of his own. 

In Eddie’s territory a vast majority of the inhabitants were Variants. He burned through his fresh meat too quickly leaving mostly the Variant population behind. Eddie had been growing picky as well. At the start of the riot era he would take any man. The gymnasium was filled with the corpses of men, they hung from ceiling, mutilated and robbed of dignity. Back then Eddie would take anything with a heartbeat, now however, he preferred his men to be fairer, less marred by the effects of the Engine and other Variants. Because of this, many of the original surviving patients from Mount Massive were left, which made hunting for himself a bit tricky for Waylon.

He had just decided to check the upper floors when he heard screaming. Someone had burst open the door and came running in. “Run!” He shouted. “Run the Groom is coming!” Another person followed in behind him and froze. 

“Fuck we’re screwed.” 

“No,” he said. “We’re not, come on let’s just keep moving.” He grabbed the others hand and tugged him forward. 

“Don’t you see? We’re cornered.” 

He looked from Waylon to the room behind him. “What? We’re not cornered; we just have to go past this guy here.” 

“You…you really don’t know who that is, do you?” 

Waylon raised an eyebrow. Someone who wasn’t familiar with him was most definitely fresh meat. He took a step forward. 

The Variant took a step back for every step forward that Waylon took. “That’s the Walrider. We have to run.” 

“That? That’s the Walrider? He doesn’t look like much, we can get by.” He squeezed the other man’s hand. “We have to get by, or else we’ll be dead. Come on.” 

He shook his head. “No, no we can’t outrun him. We’re dead.” 

They both heard Eddie approaching and made their move. The two charged forward and Waylon stepped to the side and dropped to the floor. He stuck a leg out and tripped one of them. Both went down and Waylon was quick to pin one to the floor and sink his teeth deep into his neck. The man let out a garbled cry and thrashed weakly under Waylon’s weight. 

The other man regained his self and scooted back. “N-No…Steve? No not you…” But he was already gone, the life draining from him quickly. While the Walrider was busy he tried to move further away but his back hit something else. 

“Oh Darling, you’ve made a mess.” Waylon growled low in his throat. “That one was mine, you know.” Waylon gripped the corpse tighter and lifted his head to snarl. “Easy, easy, you can have him now; you’ve ruined his throat anyways.” 

Eddie knelt down and tied the wrists of the surviving man. He said, “I do have to thank you, these two escaped while I was busy with their barricade. If it wasn’t for you they would have gotten away.” 

Waylon took no notice of what Eddie was saying. He was lost to his kill. All he wanted was for Eddie to leave so he could haul his prize away and deal with it. But Eddie was talking away and his victim had started crying. Waylon started to tug the corpse away, lips lifted to bare teeth. He dragged the man someplace quiet. Someplace where he could feast and carve up the body for transport.

It always happened like this. Even though Eddie had just fed him he always seemed to gorge on his fresh kill. It was equal parts instinct and training. In the labs he was always afraid of losing his meals. The scientists would rush him from test to test leaving only a few moments to eat. They fed him a diet of meat, though Waylon wasn’t stupid, he knew they slipped drugs into the meat. Pills and powders that were never explained to him.

But now, now his meals were his own. There was no mystery to them and he had as long as he desired. He lifted his head and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. The blood just smeared across his skin. Waylon could see his reflection in a shattered mirror. He was used to seeing blood and gore, he was used to seeing himself. 

There was a nagging thought in the back of his mind. Memories how Jeremy looked at him when he fed, disgust and disappointment, flooded over him. Miles had said people don’t eat other people, that it wasn’t right. His eyes moved from the corpse to his reflection again. He was a person once, but he wasn’t anymore. Was it still wrong for him to feed? He didn’t know, he was just doing what came naturally to him. Before, he never gave it much thought, but now…now he was uncomfortable at his own diet. Would Miles be ashamed of him? Repulsed by his behavior? 

He didn’t want to think about it.

He didn’t want this feeling. He didn’t want to feel wrong or ashamed. He just wanted to live.

But it was there, the feeling, and he didn’t think it was going to go away for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!
> 
> I managed to fit one more update in before the new year starts!  
> I hope everyone has a wonderful night and an amazing new year.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter.  
> I really can't wait to get into the meat of this story, but like all things, I have to spend some time building up the world before I plunge into other things.  
> This story will be worked on in between my other two Outlast fics, The Aftermath at Mount Massive and Freedom.  
> I'd like to know your opinions as readers, like always comments are welcome and strongly encouraged.  
> I'd also like to thank Joel for giving me the permission to use his character and write a fic about him. Discussing this story with you has been way too much fun. I look forward to writing the rest of it.


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